In Comfort
by thecatsred
Summary: With Cas gone, the Levi's out of purgatory, and Sam's wall down, Dean copes in an unusual way. Sam isn't quite sure what to do about it just yet, but he's determined to help.


I wanted to write a post-Cas Wincest fic, and then this happened. I am trying to follow the cannon events of the show as closely as I can while still making it work with this story, so yes, Sam's head will break for real, and yes, Cas will return. Later on.

I'm writing this experimentally. I'd like some feedback to see how people respond to this, and I'll move the story along based on that. Suggestions are very much welcome. Enjoy!

x:x

The boys had somewhat of a break since their last hunt (which had proved to be rather upsetting what with Jo showing up and all), and they were currently holed up in another nondescript motel room.

It was going on their third night at this place with still no new leads, and Sam had decided to go for a run the next morning to dispel some of his built up energy.

He had just started to get comfortable in his bed when he heard Dean banging around in the kitchenette with some glasses. He'd been drinking most of the night, but slow enough that he wouldn't get too drunk in case something came up. The drink made him somewhat bearable, causing him to forget to poke fun at Sam about his newfound workout regime. Sam had used an excuse about needing to feel healthy, but really, anything to get his mind off Lucifer was a welcome blessing these days.

Dean cursed and something clattered in the sink, but Sam didn't hear anything break. When he saw Dean's shadow in the doorway he figured Dean didn't much care for the fate of whatever he was drinking from.

Dean kicked off his shoes and leaned against the wall to toe off his socks before padding over to hover near Sam's bed. Sam feigned sleep, hoping Dean couldn't see how he left one eye open for observation. Dean crossed his arms over his belly, grabbing material in each hand, and peeled both layers of shirts off in one smooth move before undoing his pants and letting them fall to the floor.

Sam frowned, closing his eyes when he felt Dean lean over a bit, stepping out of his pants and nudging them back somewhere. Then the bed suddenly dipped down and Sam felt his side pressed firmly to his brothers hip, the threadbare covers doing little to contain the furnace-like heat coming from Dean.

He felt Dean lean over him, one hand on his other side, pressed into the sheets by his shoulder. "Sammy, hey," Dean whispered, and Sam's frown deepened. "Sam." Dean insisted, letting some of his weight settle on Sam's ribs.

Sam made a show of waking up and growling at Dean, but his brother was unimpressed. "What? Go to sleep." Sam muttered, turning his head away from Dean's face and trying to turn the rest of himself in that direction as well. Except he couldn't move much from the waist down, due to the weight on his lower half. Sam realized Dean must have brought his feet onto the bed. He couldn't help but be confused. "What are you doing?"

"You said you feel better." Dean explained.

"What?"

Dean huffed and settled himself fully on top Sam now, the blankets bunching up uncomfortably around Sam's waist. "About a week ago. You said you felt good."

Ah, that conversation. Okay. "Yeah," Sam agreed, trying to discreetly slide down some as Dean had a really terrible way of lining himself up, honestly. "Yeah, I remember. What about it?"

Dean pressed his cheek again Sam's chest hard, making a humming noise after a few seconds, his fingers tapping out a rhythm on Sam's side. "I'm not. I don't feel good about any of this, Sam."

Sam cleared his throat, still deeply confused why this conversation couldn't take place on two beds instead of just his own, but his complaint died in his throat when he noticed his chest felt warm and a bit wet. Dean was trembling silently.

"Dean?"

All he got back was a noncommittal grunt and a motion that felt suspiciously like wiping away tears. Well.

"Dean, you don't…you don't have to have everything figured out, y'know."

Dean huffed.

"I mean it. This whole thing is screwed up. Cas, my head, leviathans, another end of the world looming. Yeah, I get it. It's a little crazy. But we've worked through crazy before." Sam offered, not quite believing what he said, but at least willing to act like it for Dean's sake.

"S'my job, though. Gotta keep you safe. How'm I supposed to do that when I can't even get rid of-" He cut himself off, pulling himself up a bit so he was more align with Sam's shoulder. "You see him now?" Dean asked quietly, like he was afraid of the answer.

Sam sighed. "Not right now, no." He said. "Sometimes there's nothing for hours." He added, though he neglected to say at other times, it's non-stop. Dean didn't need to hear that much anyway, Sam thought.

"Hmm," Dean grunted, suddenly moving to press his face against the crook of Sam's neck, making him jump and try to move away.

"Hey, what are-" Sam tried to worm out from under Dean, but he didn't get far when he realized his only option for escape was to dump him on the floor. "Dean," Sam growled, not liking whatever the hell Dean was currently up to. It was quickly making him uncomfortable.

Both of Dean's hands slipped up Sam's sides and came to a rest against his neck, brushing against the bare skin by the collar of his shirt. "It's gonna be okay, Sammy," Dean breathed into Sam's neck, his nose brushing against his jaw, a hint of alcohol tainting his breath. "You gotta let it be okay."

Sam placed his hands on Dean's shoulders, covering them completely, and holding him still. "Dean," he repeated gruffly, tone protesting.

"_Please_," Sam felt his brother's body slump against him, going limp like he planned on losing whatever this fight even was.

After some tense minutes of deliberation, Sam sighed wearily and wrapped his arms around Dean tightly. "Yeah, okay, Dean. Okay." Despite having Hell running around in his head almost constantly, he was determined to be strong for his brother. To protect his brother from things that were hurting him, even if Dean didn't fully understand why he hurt.

Dean was always the one doing the protecting, and while Sam knew it was stupid to feel guilty about this, of all things, as it was something Dean always gave freely, he still felt he needed to pay Dean back for all those years of security. If that meant letting Dean crawl into his bed at night and cuddle, he'd damn well let Dean do so.

He turned to his side to breathe more easily and pulled Dean in tight. He felt Dean hum appreciatively and tuck his head up under his chin, one of his arms wrapped around Sam's waist and the other pressed against his chest. Once they had both settled, Sam had to swallow the lump he found in his throat. He'd be lying if he pretended this didn't help him as well.

x:x

They don't talk about it in the morning. Or the morning after that.

Sam suspects Dean would rather it not be brought up at all. But Sam was one for talking, and after the fourth night like this in a row, he had to ask. "Dean,"

Dean looked up from some papers he had spread out in front of him, though it was obvious he hadn't been reading them. "No, Sam."

Sam frowned. "But-"

"I know that tone." Dean interrupted, leaning down to snatch a new bottle of beer from the cooler on the floor next to him. "No." The bottle cap went flying off somewhere noisily.

"Are we ever going to talk about this?"

Dean took a swig of his beer, leaning back in the rickety chair he sat in and put his feet up on the table. He studied his drink suspiciously before making a face at it and setting it down. He then turned his attention to Sam, looking at him with much the same expression. "Probably not."

Sam rolled his eyes and stared hard at the ground to compose himself. "Dean. I know you don't like to have these 'chick flick' moments and talk about what you're feeling, but I think it's time you make another exception. I told you and Bobby about…what I was going through…and I think you owe me."

"Well, that was different. There's nothing going on with me, okay?"

"Dea-"

"For the last time, Sam. I said _no_." Dean let his feet drop against the floor hard, the sound jarring Sam and causing him to flinch before he could hold it back. Dean's expression changed almost instantly as he rushed over to Sam's side, placing one palm flat against Sam's chest, over his heart, and the other against Sam's back, to steady him. He leaned over Sam slowly, both hands moving in soothing circles. "Hey, you alright?"

Sam allowed himself to be calmed, concentrating on his breathing and the feeling of Dean's fingers on his chest and back, little points of heat he could zero in on. After a moment, he nodded weakly, his hands coming up to cup the one on his chest before moving it away. "Yeah," He breathed out, feeling pathetic and a little embarrassed at being affected so easily. "Yeah, I'm good."

Dean let go and stepped back slowly, still looking at Sam cautiously. "Okay," He said softly. "Okay."

Sam furrowed his brow and looked up. "Dean?"

However, his brother had already left the room.

x:x

That night, Dean didn't drink before he wordlessly climbed into bed with Sam and positioned himself in such a way that Sam could not comfortably share the bed without holding onto Dean in some manner. Sam found himself getting angry and he was halfway out the bed before a tight grip on his wrist stopped his ascent.

"No." Dean said firmly, the tone leaving no room for discussion - at least a discussion Sam didn't want to have at two in the morning. He slid his feet back under the covers and quietly, carefully, rolled to his side and pulled Dean's body against his own.

When they were little, this was a common position they took up when John actually stayed the night at the motel, but it was always Dean holding him, never this way. Sam found that, despite the strangeness of doing this ritual of sorts again, it was all very calming. He fell asleep with Dean in his arms within minutes.

x:x

When Sam woke up, he was startled to see Dean still asleep in the bed next to him. He had managed to turn on his stomach at some point in the night, and Sam found with an ounce of tingling pain, he had also managed to take an arm hostage. He placed a hand on Dean's mid back, shaking him softly.

Dean blinked twice before whirling around and feeling under the pillow for a knife that was not there. "Mmwha?" He mumbled, rubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand and staring at Sam like he did something wrong. "Oh, hey," He said in a greeting a few minutes later, sitting up abruptly and swinging his legs out before darting in the bathroom and turning on the shower.

Sam sighed. "G'morning to you, too." He got up a bit later, opting to skip the shower since Dean was taking his sweet time and just wandered into the other room to see if he could find anything for breakfast.

By the time he had managed to assemble something of a sandwich, Dean stumbled into the room and plopped himself in the chair opposite Sam, reaching for a room-temperature bottle of beer.

"Dean," Sam warned, swiping the bottle before Dean could take it. "Seriously, it's not even eleven yet. You need to cut back. Stop trying to kill yourself."

Dean scowled and made a pass for the drink. "Oh, don't preach at me. I can do what I damn well please." He stood up and stalked over to Sam, reaching for the bottle. "And if I want to kill myself through liver failure, then I will!" He missed the bottle when Sam stood up and held it above himself in a very juvenile fashion.

"Stop it! You're just messed up because Cas died and left me like this. Don't think I haven't seen you out there, Dean." At that, Dean paused, face looking ashen.

Sam had caught him pulling the trench coat from the trunk a few times now. He'd take it out, brush off the dust and grime from recent hunts, and refold it carefully, methodically, before replacing it. Though his frequent trips out to the Impala were excused as gathering or dropping off supplies – a roll of duct tape here, some salt there – Sam saw through him. And he understood all too well.

"You don't know what you're talking about."

Sam didn't lower his arm. "Yeah, I do. In case you forgot, I'm not stupid."

Dean wavered, first leaning on one foot, then the other. Then he stepped closer to Sam, as close as he could get without backing him into the wall, and grinned up at him. Sam swallowed. This wouldn't end well.

"Mhm," Dean muttered, eyeing the bottle above him before surging forward and pressing a very chaste and dry-lipped kiss to Sam's, taking advantage of his surprise to grab the bottle and dash off into the bedroom area with his captured prize.

Sam remained where he was, frozen in place. His eyes widened. "Dean, you asshole!" He bellowed, arriving just in time to catch Dean in the middle of a good swallow. He ignored a snide comment Lucifer made somewhere off to his left, instead going for the bottle and placing it on a side table nearby.

"Enough!"

Dean looked like he was going to stand up from the end of the bed where he sat, but after one look at Sam's face he thought better of it and let himself sink back into the mattress. "Look-"

"No! I don't care what bullshit excuse you have, Dean. We're going to talk about this, and we're going to do it _now_." Sam paused to collect himself, closing his eyes and running a hand over his face in a manner he realized he picked up from Dean. That caught him off guard, but he pushed past whatever was building in his gut and stared at Dean with one of his best bitch-faces. "Dean, like it or not, the stuff you don't talk about doesn't just go away." Sam started, eyeing his brother carefully, taking in the stance of his shoulders and the look on his face to make sure he was actually listening and not off thinking about something else. "It builds up, like whatever's eating at you right now."

Dean shrugged. "There's always something eating at me. That's who I am. Something happens, I feel responsible, all right?" He crossed his ankles, placed his hands in his lap, and stared up at Sam expectantly, looking very much like a child getting chastised.

"That's," Sam sighed, deflating a bit and coming over to sit next to Dean. "That's not what I'm talking about."

Sam had a sort of overwhelmed look on his face that made Dean frown. No matter if he was pissed at Sam, he still couldn't stand to see his little brother like this. And to have it be because of his actions? It didn't sit well. "Well, then what the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about whatever you're not telling me about." Sam said quietly, still giving Dean that beaten puppy stare. "Look, Dean, it's fine. You can unload. That's kind of what I'm here for."

"No Sammy, it shouldn't be." Dean hung his head down, chin almost touching his chest. He looked at Sam from the corner of his eye. "I shouldn't be putting this on you. This is my fault, what happened. I get it now." He placed one warm hand on Sam's knee.

Sam figured that simple gesture shouldn't be as comforting as it was, but he didn't dwell on it too much.

"What?"

Dean smiled a tight, forced smile that did more for him than Sam. "I gotta find a way to fix this mess. Fix you."

Sam furrowed his brow and bumped his shoulder to Dean's. "You know I'm not broken, Dean. Not entirely." He said softly, but with a lightness to his voice that betrayed his worry.

Dean turned to look fully at Sam now, his eyes meeting his brother's with a strong, determined look. "Not yet."

x:x

Dean left soon after their little exchange, and Sam was left more confused than before. He wanted to be someone Dean could rely on again, but apparently Dean wasn't going to allow that with Sam's current state. His mind be damned! He learned how to figure out what was real and what was something conjured rather quickly, and he was coping fine. He didn't enjoy feeling like the helpless little brother again, and he was determined to help Dean out in any way he could.

When he came to Dean the next day (after having slept in separate beds, for a change), asking to join in on some supposedly simple hunt, Dean had flat out refused. But Sam insisted, and eventually he was able to convince Dean to let him help out, especially since it looked like there was going to be some talking-to-people-without-insulting-them involved. Dean was severely lacking in that department.

By the end of it all, they have a passed out leviathan tied up in the truck and find themselves on their way to Rufus' old place to meet up with Bobby. Soon enough they find out some of these levis are out looking like them and killing people, so of course they have to drop all their old names and the Impala, much to Dean's displeasure, and run off to kill their look-a-likes.

x:x

Everything for the next week or so was very tense, and any sleep they managed to get was taken in shifts. Sam found himself missing the warmth of his brother. It didn't help that Dean was barely talking to him, preferring to keep to himself and ignore any of Sam's attempts at conversation outside the topic of their current situation.

One night, when they were right outside of Iowa and closing in on the levis, Dean decides they are hidden away enough to get drunk again. It had been awhile since his last drunken stupor, and it put Sam on edge. They really couldn't afford to be letting themselves get like this when their continued livelihood relied on them being able to react quickly should something go wrong. But obviously Dean didn't get that memo, returning to their shitty motel with a flushed face and a wobbly gait, his fingers clutched around three more bottles of alcohol.

Sam looked up at him disapprovingly from his position on his bed. He had been reading up about the exploits of their doppelgangers online and was doing his best to ignore any comments Lucifer had on the matter. Sam was fortunate that he had been left alone for a little more than usual, but he wasn't going to bother getting excited about anything yet. Not now, at least. "Dean," He called out, intent on informing him of what they should watch out for when they caught up with the levis. Instead, Dean got a sour look on his face, deposited the booze on a table, and wandered over towards Sam.

"Nuh-uh, man. I finally feel pretty damn good for the first time in a long time. You ain't gonna ruin it with none of your…" He trailed off, looking like he was trying to think of the right word. "…stuff." He settled on after a beat, making some wide sweeping hand gesture.

Sam slammed his laptop closed and pushed it away, bristling. "You need to stop." He growled, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring. Dean laughed off the look Sam sent his way and joined him on the bed, swinging his legs up and settling right alongside Sam. Though Sam felt a little less pissed off, he continued to wear a frown, refusing to look at Dean.

"Whatsa matter, hm? You upset I haven't been sneaking into your bed at night?" The edges of his mouth twitched, giving away his amusement, and that only served to deepen Sam's frown.

"Dean, you're being ridiculous. Can you just be serious for once when I try to talk to you? Last time you turned this on me and I know that can't be all that's bothering you." He let up on his sour face, softening his features to the one he used when talking to civilians and trying to get something out of them.

Dean shook his head. "Nah. Doesn't matter anymore. I want to focus on _you_ now." He mumbled cryptically, giving Sam a look that served to both confuse and arouse him. The feeling left Sam hollow and rendered him mute. His empty hands searched for something to occupy themselves with, eventually settling on the edge of the jacket he'd been wearing all day.

Dean took Sam's lack of response as the go-ahead for something more and placed his hand on the middle of Sam's thigh. "If you'll let me, that is." Dean whispers, stilling his movements. He gave Sam that look again.

Sam let out a small undignified noise, not quite trusting himself to make an intelligible argument just then. He started to push himself away from Dean, but Dean's hand stopped him when his fingers dug into his thigh, making Sam shiver.

"C'mon, Sammy. We've done this before." Dean smiled lazily, his fingers gripping tightly at Sam's thigh. Sam tensed up and started to play with the end of the zipper on his jacket. The soft metallic ting cut into the nervous, bitten off noises Sam made under his breath.

Cuddling at night was one thing, a comforting thing, even, but this was taking it too far. Sam had to stop Dean before he did something he might regret. He knew what Dean was saying was true, but they had been young and curious and when you're on the road that long, and in Sam's case, alone for that long, things just…happen. "But we were kids!" Sam finally spat out, letting go of his jacket in favor of throwing up his hands. "I was like, thirteen!"

"Yeah," Dean agreed far too easily. His fingers slipped higher up Sam's thigh as he leaned forward into Sam's space. He took advantage of his brother's stillness to press his lips to the shell of Sam's ear, his voice dropping a touch. "And I was old enough to know better." Sam could smell the liquor on him.

The whole situation went from uncomfortable to fucked up in about a second once Sam realized he was already hard, reacting like a teenager to Dean's simple touches. "_Jesus_," Sam breathed. Dean's answering chuckle went straight to his dick, which gave an interested twitch. "Dean, we can't." He tried weakly, though he knew Dean was passed reasoning with. And if Sam was completely truthful with himself, he didn't want Dean to stop whatever it was he had planned.

"What's stopping us, hm?" Dean murmured, a vicious grin breaking out on his face when he moved to palm Sam's crotch and found evidence of Sam's enjoyment. "Doesn't seem like you mind very much, Sammy." He growled, cupping Sam through his jeans and tilting his head up to mouth at Sam's neck.

Sam had to close his eyes and focus on breathing. The duel sensations of _wrong_ and _familiar_ hit him hard and he had trouble keeping it together and not making an ass out of himself. Weren't they just arguing about something? He couldn't remember. Hell, he couldn't remember much of anything once Dean started to move his fingers over Sam more insistently. Sam's hips rose off the bed of their own accord, pressing against Dean's curious hand, demanding. "Please," Sam choked out, chancing a brief look at Dean, and very quickly wishing he didn't.

Dean looked completely gone, sitting back on his knees, one hand palming Sam and the other stuffed deep into his jeans. Sam had the sudden need to do something with his own hands, but he couldn't figure out what, so he just settled on opening his jeans rather quickly and then hanging on to Dean.

His brother wasted no time in getting his hand inside, nudging under the waistband of his boxer briefs efficiently. He scraped his fingers through the coarse hair leading from Sam's belly on his way down, making Sam's breath hitch. "Yeah, Sammy, s'gonna get better, you'll see." Oh, Sam _knew_.

Dean moved a little closer to Sam then, his knees pressing into the side of Sam's thigh, but neither of them really noticed. Sam winced at the unexpected rush of cool air when Dean pulled him free. He blushed wildly at the approving look Dean gave him and the accompanying wolf whistle.

"Wow, Sam, you really grew _everywhere_, didn't you?" Dean stroked Sam a few times curiously, momentarily forgetting his own dick while he looked on in wonder, a toothy smile on his face. "It's a wonder you don't get all the ladies." He joked, a playful edge to his voice that made something in Sam glow warm with affection.

"_Dean_,"

"Yeah yeah, 'don't make jokes about that', 'I'm not like you', yadda yadda." Dean rolled his eyes.

Sam shook his head and made it a point to thrust up into Dean's hand. "No, _shut up_ and _do this_." He all but ordered, reaching forward to pull Dean closer. He got the hint quickly enough and moved to straddle Sam's legs, their hips just about lined up. Sam let out a shaky breath he hadn't noticed he'd been holding and quickly pulled Dean free from his pants as well.

Dean didn't look all that much different from before, but it was all still basically new to Sam, for how long it's been since anything like this last happened. He tested the feeling of Dean in his hand, letting his fingers run down and up the length of it a few times before he dove in and moved on to what he remembered Dean liking.

Sure enough, Dean let out a soft groan that rumbled through Sam and started to quicken the pace of his own hand. His empty hand found a place on Sam's side for balance, and Sam found himself focusing on both of Dean's hands at once. It was very strange, considering where the other one was.

They had developed an off sort of rhythm; Sam thrusting up into Dean's hand as Dean pulled away from Sam's. It worked though, and soon Dean was completely flushed and heavy-lidded, his bottom lip sucked into his mouth and turning red from his teeth. It was pretty ridiculous, if Sam had any say in the matter. Dean let go of his bruised lip, shiny now from his spit, and gave Sam a weak smile, gritting his teeth when Sam made a particular motion with his wrist.

"C'mon, Sammy," Dean urged, his fingers slippery from the mess Sam's dick was making. Sam's hand was in a similar state, and that urged him to pull out some old tricks.

He leaned up into Dean as much as he could and licked a long stripe up Dean's neck before closing his teeth around the juncture of his neck and shoulder. Dean let out a deep moan, his head flopping to the side to give Sam more room. Dean tasted a bit like stale liquor and sweat and soap and leather, and Sam found he couldn't get enough of it. When Dean started to tense up above him, Sam knew he was close. He'd already been on edge for a while now, just barely keeping himself in check, unwilling to finish before Dean. If it was out of pride or to stop possible embarrassment, Sam didn't know. All he knew then is he was going to get Dean off first.

Which, really, didn't take much effort at all. He bit down on Dean's shoulder once more, his tongue lapping at the marks he left on the skin, and then Dean was coming in thick ropes that managed to completely ruin Sam's jacket. "Shit, _Sammy_," Dean groaned, his dick giving one last spurt before he was completely spent. Dean's grip on Sam had tightened and stilled during his orgasm, but now that he had gathered himself, he moved sure-handed against Sam's cock, his thumb rubbing over and inside the slit on every upstroke, palm twisting roughly over the head. "_Sammy_," Dean repeated, his voice sounded grave and fucked out beyond repair, but that did it. Sam arched into Dean, clutching at his arms and tossing his head back as he came hard all over himself and Dean's hand.

"_Fuck_." Sam swore, gritting his teeth and prying Dean's hand from his oversensitive cock. He took a second to breathe, to bask, before unzipping his jacket and using it to clean them both up. It was tossed unceremoniously in some corner, but Sam honestly didn't even care. It took him a moment to note Dean had yet to move; instead he seemed rooted to his spot, staring down at Sam with an unreadable expression on his face. He was still hanging out of his jeans, for god's sake. "Dean, you should probably go shower." Sam offered, watching him carefully. He tucked himself back into his pants and stared at Dean pointedly. "Dean."

Dean blinked, staring down at himself and moving his gaze back up to Sam, looking almost pained. "Yeah, okay, sure." He stood up out of nowhere, looming threateningly over Sam and walked off the bed, hopping down on the floor. He was in the bathroom a second later.

Sam frowned a little, but instead of wondering, he pushed his jeans down and kicked them off to the end of the bed to be dealt with later on. Right now, he needed sleep. He could shower in the morning.

He fell asleep before Dean made it out of the bathroom, and awoke after Dean had already started eating a quick breakfast, so he wasn't sure if Dean had started slipping back in to join the bed with him. However, when he patted the sheets next to him, he couldn't help but feel a void where Dean was not. It hurt him more than he thought it would.

x:x

The next day found them in some heavy stuff. Wrongly arrested, and then put up face-to-face with the very levis that had been giving them a bad rap. When Bobby managed to give them pointers on how to off the bastards, they were able to wrap things up pretty quickly. It was a time to celebrate, they finally got to get the one-up on the bastards, there was hope for this war after all. But still Sam felt something weird in the air, and he didn't like it.

They had made their way to a pier just outside town in order to dispose of the heads. Sam leaned against their borrowed car, moodily staring out at the water. Dean seemed to notice his temper.

"Hey. What? What is it?" He sounded worried as he moved around the car to get a better look at Sam, but Sam was still feeling rather petty, so he didn't give Dean his attention.

"Nothing." Sam grumbled, crossing his arms and refusing to look at his brother.

Dean sighed, moving back to rummage in the trunk. "Well, that's convincing. Did monster-us give you the jeebs, huh? 'Cause I gotta be honest; I ain't looking in the mirror for a while myself." He chuckled.

Sam just frowned, pushing off the car and stalking over to Dean, getting in his space. "Okay. You really want to know what's wrong?" He asked, tone dangerous.

Dean nodded, his eyebrows drawing together while he placed what was supposed to be a comforting hand on Sam's shoulder. It only made Sam flinch away. Dean removed it slowly, giving Sam a look of confusion and worry. "Yeah. Yeah, you know my motto. Here to help." The expression on Dean's face should've melted the foul mood right off of him, but he couldn't let this go.

"'Here to help.'" Sam mimicked angrily. "Kinda like how you 'helped' me last night?" Sam stepped closer.

Dean paled, backing away and looking anywhere but him. "Listen, Sam..." He started, sounding like he was going to try and play it off or change the subject, and Sam was having none of that.

"Don't. Don't do that to me again. No, don't even talk to me." Sam stepped away, glaring at Dean and moving to one of the windows, pausing as he stared inside. "Yeah, I can't." He said finally, closing his eyes and letting out a breath. If Dean was going to act like this wasn't a _big fucking deal_, then Sam didn't want to be around him. He opened the door and grabbed his bags, what little he brought with him, turning back once the door was shut. "You know what, Dean?" He asked, not waiting for answer before he started to walk away, down the pier to another exit. "I can't."

Dean's voice stops him, but he doesn't turn around. "You can't what?"

Sam's grip on his bags tighten. "I can't talk to you right now! Dean..." He turns around then, and Dean recoils visibly when he sees a few tears on Sam's cheeks. "I can't even be around you right now!"

Dean swallows hard. "Okay, so…" He starts, holding up his hands in surrender, his tone soft, like he was trying to calm a wild animal. And maybe he was.

"I think you should just go on without me." Sam says evenly, emotionless. He didn't have time for any of Dean's bullshit right now. He really, really didn't.

They stared at each other for several tense minutes.

Then Sam repeated, in what came out more of an order than anything else, "_Go_."

Dean nodded immediately, looking more than a little helpless, but also a touch guilty. He didn't even argue. "All right." He says, closing the trunk of the car and looking up. "Sorry, Sam."

Sam hitched one bag over his shoulder, the other firmly in his grasp. He gave Dean a final glance, and then he was off, away from Dean. Away from all this screwed up mess they had fallen into.

At least, for a little while, anyway.


End file.
